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What Is

In a world
So dark as it can light
We can see a whole universe
And light as it’s so dark
We can see none but just curse
What it’s hard is to tell which’s which

A junkie out of his mind
Looking at the pockets passing by galore, passersby
Knowing what it’s only a day’s shot
A sex worker still in her right mind
Pleasing some animals their urges
But through that back door’s what mortals scorn

And in the front door
The respectable and honourable lot show up
All cover up in white, purely, innocently
But you can see the plain sexual and criminal scums
Possibly only chlamydia and gonorrhea know
Oh, and this’s our sense of what’s right

What is wrong in heroin from Burma
What is wrong in coitus with everybody
What is wrong in fixing
What is wrong in fucking for money
None is written anywhere; none even the gods know
Decorum is overrated

Not even all our education tell
Not even, for us, our parents spell
The people, the junkies, the sex workers stay
It’s only the self-righteousness that changes
The gods’re high; maybe they need some heroin and sex
The mortals’ prayers are too nauseous